


Words I Thought I'd Never Speak

by autisticatboy



Series: Swerve and his "Scientist" [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, M/M, also swerve being sad and self-loathing, and by responsible i mean, bc i wanted to make myself sad!!, knows better than 2 get drunk around his crush, swerve isnt the one drunk hes more responsible than that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-25 22:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticatboy/pseuds/autisticatboy
Summary: A needlessly dramatic title for a series of events that are incredibly mundane, by Lost Light standards. Drunk Autobots confessing their love, the other Autobots behind the bar pining for them painfully... you know. Mundane.





	1. "One-Sided" Affection

**Author's Note:**

> i really just wanted to make swerve sad i PROMISE im probably going to write smth soft and fluffy to go with this and make swerve happy again
> 
> this is also the most ive written in one sitting in AGES transformers wht are u doing to me

“Oh, Swerve, you’re a _genius!_”

It bounced in his mind as he washed glasses. His optics were unfocused, not looking at anything in particular, and yet he couldn’t seem to look anywhere else.

_He says that to everyone, you know,_ said his inner voice. _Like, literally everyone. There isn’t a single ‘bot on this ship who he **hasn’t** called a genius. _

Swerve leaned on his bar, over-cleaned shot glass limply resting in his servo. The other clenched into a fist around the cleaning rag.

_You’re not special._

But he wanted so badly to believe that he _was_. That maybe the words meant something else when they were said to him. That maybe that glint behind his visor when he had just come from his lab, or the way his voice went up an octave, or the way he’d grab his servos and smile (he couldn’t see the smile itself, but he saw it in his optics, how his cheeks pressed up and turned them a different shape) – that maybe it was for _him_. 

_You’re selfish_, he told himself. _You’re only friends. That’s all you’ll ever be. Not Amica, not Conjunx, not even just dating - only friends._

But he didn’t want to believe that. He hadn’t pursued anything yet, after all, so there was no answer - he had been waiting, wanting, biding his time… but when they were so surrounded by death and destruction, how much time did he have left to bide? How much longer could he afford to wait?

_You’ll be alone until your spark burns out_, he thought. _That’s your destiny. No one wants tiny, annoying, motor-mouth Swerve, and they never will. You’ve been fine with this before, why are you getting all mopey about it now?_

He knew the answer, but he still hated thinking about it. Hated that little tug on his spark, the fuzzy feeling he got around his fuel pump, the way he felt like he could float away if he wasn’t careful.

His helm fell against the bar with a heavy clunk. He gripped the back of his neck and sighed. “Don’t cry now, Swerve,” he muttered, “not here. Pull yourself–”

“Swerve?” 

He put himself back in a proper standing position so quickly his neck cables strained. He quickly cleared his throat and put on a customary, apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, Touch-Tone– closed for the night, you know how it is.”

He frowned. Swerve couldn’t see his mouth, but he could _tell_ he was frowning from the way his browplate drew together and his right servo flexed. It always did that when he was upset. He hated that he knew that.

“Swerve, are you okay?” 

“Ahh, you know me!” he said with a grin. He waved a servo dismissively. “I’m fine - rough night is all.”

Unconvinced, Touch-Tone approached the bar. He didn’t sit, opting to rest his forearms on the counter instead. He looked Swerve in the optics, visor-to-visor, so visibly _concerned_ that it made his guts turn.

“Swerve, I _do_ know you, and I _know_ when you’re lying to me. Tell me what’s up.”

There was a beat of silence. Swerve could feel the energon pooling cold at his pedes. He cleaned the glass he was holding a little more aggressively.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it too, that’s okay,” Touch-Tone said softly. He reached out to touch his wrist, gentle as he ever was. “I figure Rung’s better at actually… helping, and everything – but if you need an audial, or you just want a distraction, I’ve got ya.”

Swerve thought he might puke. He managed a smile, much weaker than he had put on before.

“I appreciate it, bud,” he said, worried he would notice the way his voice caught in his throat, “but really, I’m _fine_. Promise.”

Hesitant, Touch-Tone pulled his servo back and nodded. Swerve tried to make himself stand a little taller, smile a little brighter, pushing his practice in faking happiness to the forefront of his processor.

“Now, I know I said we’re closed, but lemme get you a drink - on the house!”

Touch-Tone was too nice to say no.

* * *

One drink turned to two, then five, then ten. Swerve didn’t know _why_ he kept offering the drinks - maybe he wanted him to stay longer, maybe he was hoping for a chance to say something that would be forgotten in a blur of Engex the following morning; but whatever the reason, he just kept making new drinks when Touch-Tone would ask for them. 

“Swerve…” A servo reached out for him, grabbing at the air before hooking on to his wrist. He lifted his helm, his visor flickering from too-bright to nearly offline over and over. 

“Yeah, bud?” Swerve nervously moved closer as Touch-Tone tugged him closer. “You alright?”

He nodded, swaying a bit too much in his seat for Swerve to take it seriously. “Yeah, ‘m– ‘m fine,” he tried to assure. “I just… I wanna- I wanna say somethin’.”

Swerve tilted his helm and quirked a browplate, all too curious what this wobbly bot had to say. “Go for it.”

“I… I came here t’night for- f’r a reason,” he slurred. He tried to keep visor contact, but he eventually let his helm fall heavily onto the bar. His visor flickered again and dimmed - his optics must have closed, Swerve thought. “I– I wanted to tell you somethin’, but you… ya seemed sad when I came in, so I thought it mi– _hic!_ – might not be the time…”

Swerve’s fuel pump picked up speed. His spark felt simultaneously cold and warm in its chamber. 

“But– but when_ is_ the time, y’know?” he continued, sounding almost fed up with the concept of time. “Like, we’re all so _busy_ all the _time_…”

He lifted his head again and tugged Swerve even closer. Their forehelms clanked together, and Touch-Tone brought his other servo up to the back of Swerve’s neck. 

“I jus’– you’re so _nice_ to me, Swerve,” he babbled, his helm tilting almost tiredly while Swerve fought to keep his composure. “You’re so _nice_ n’ _smart_ n’ you’re a _good listener _n’ you’re _cute_– n’ there’s no one like you on this ship! Everyone else–” His browplate furrowed again. “Everyone’s always sayin’ I’m crazy, but you don’t! You– you _listen_ to me, n’ you-” 

He pulled away suddenly and covered his mouthguard, hunched slightly. After a moment of silence, he hiccupped, and returned to a more relaxed position - that being face-down on the counter. He took one of Swerve’s servos in both of his and held it above his helm like he were in prayer.

“You’re _great_, Swerve,” he mumbled into the bar, “You’re so great, n’ I’m not, and I think I love you? That’s– tha’s what I wanted to _tell_ you, tonight, but now I’m drunk and you prob’ly don’t think ‘m bein’ genuine, but I am.” He lifted his helm again, and Swerve thought he saw tears on the edge of his visor.

“I– Touch-Tone, you-?”

“I jus’– you’re so _great_,” he repeated, his vocalizer mangling his words just slightly as he cut him off, “and I didn’ want to tell you like this but I think this is- this’s the only way I _could_ tell you ‘cus I get so nervous, an’–”

“Touch-Tone, hey,” Swerve’s gentle voice stopped him in the middle of his babbling. “Hey, let’s get you back to your hab suite, alright?”

“But–” Touch-Tone crashed to his feet, using his servos to support him since his legs and pedes didn’t want to do the job. “Swerve, ‘m not– this isn’t the- the _Engex_ talking! Well, it– it kind of is, but- but you know what I mean!”

“Even if it’s not, you’re lookin’ rough, Touch-Tone,” Swerve said, all softness and sympathy as he made his way to the other side of the bar. “Let’s go you to your hab suite for tonight, and then we can talk in the morning, ‘kay?”

Touch-Tone sniffled. His stiff standing position relaxed back to a sad, drunken slouch. “…M’kay.” 

Swerve took him by the arm, letting him lean on him and carefully guiding him back to his hab suite. He only let go of him once he was safely sat on his berth. 

“Remember - meet me in the morning, and we can talk more, okay?” 

Touch-Tone nodded. “Yeah…” He fell onto his back in his berth and took a steadying breath, hoping to calm his rolling stomach. Then, he turned his helm to Swerve, and smiled.

“I mean it, y’know,” he repeated. “You’re so good t’me, Swerve. I love you.”

Swerve thought his spark might climb out through his mouth. He was tense, and his response came out stilted, as if he was trying to stop himself saying it.

“I … love you too, Touch-Tone. G’night.”

He hurried out before he could return the pleasantry.


	2. Requited Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yearning................. TWO  
https://66.media.tumblr.com/7e90a3f354d94d9d3c128e21787d7d14/tumblr_inline_pbbd6fURZ01r2vvqk_540.gif
> 
> this one ends CUTE AND HAPPY and also rung makes a surprise appearance ! and its OVER 1500 WORDSSS MTMTE WHATRE YOU DOIN TO MEEE
> 
> i also wrote this at like 3 am and forgot conjunx rituals so. organic things instead. cus i do what i want fuck you

“Oh, dear-- are you feeling alright? You look dreadful.”

Touch-Tone nudged his visor up with a servo and pinched between his scrunched-shut optics. Primus, he _ really _ shouldn’t have drank so much.

“‘m alright-- thanks, Rung,” he muttered, his words coming out more like a long groan than an actual sentence. “Just… had too much to drink last night.”

“Energon stick? They tend to help - or so I hear.” 

He opened one optic to see the little box in front of his face. He took one gratefully. “Thank you, Rung,” he hummed. He was expecting him to continue on his way, but he continued to look at him, examining his expression carefully. 

“Is something troubling you?” His voice was gentle, as it tended to be. “Mentally, I mean. The hangover is sure to be an issue.” He slipped the box of Energon sticks into a compartment that Touch-Tone swore hadn’t been there two nanokliks ago, but he was too hung-over to rightfully question it.

He leaned against one of the walls, feeling the thrumming of the Lost Light in his over sensitive helm. Slowly, he slid to the ground, his knees folding into his chest. Rung followed suit, pulling a datapad from another of his mystery compartments.

“I… guess there is,” he admitted slowly. Rather than eat it, he toyed with the Energon stick in his servos nervously. “I got… really drunk last night, and I told Swerve that I love him. More than once.”

Rung nodded, listening attentively. “Were you being disingenuous, then? Engex has a habit of exaggeration.”

“No!” The response came out much more quickly than he had intended. “I mean… yeah, no, no is the the right answer. I wasn’t, like, messing with him or anything.”

“And how did Swerve respond?”

“That’s the thing," he groaned, "I’m not sure I remember.” He folded his arms on top of his knees and pressed his optics into them, welcoming the darkness to soothe the ache in his processor. “Well, I _ do _remember, I’m just not sure if what I’m remembering really _happened_.”

“And you’re worried that if it didn’t, then confronting him about it wouldn’t end well.”

“_ Exactly. _ ” He sighed heavily. “And I can’t just _ not _ mention it either, you know? Because if it _ did _happen after all, and I leave him hanging, then…”

“You’d be worried about facing him again, and leaving those questions unanswered?”

“Yeah, exactly." He peeked over his arms, forcing a wry smile. "You’re too good at this, Rung. Are you sure you’re not a telepath?”

Rung smiled warmly as he finished up another sentence on his datapad. “No, no, certainly not a telepath - an _ em _path, perhaps,” he chuckled, "but nothing that supernatural." 

Seeing the datapad in his hands, Touch-Tone frowned. “Ah, Primus- sorry if I kept you from anything, doc, just--”

“If I didn’t have time to be here, I wouldn’t be,” he assured. He moved to stand up, slow on old joints. “This _ is _ my job, after all. However, if there’s no other concerns you have--”

“Wait! There- augh, this is dumb--”

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

Touch-Tone traced little circles on the floor with his digit. “You’re an older ‘bot, right? You must have some kind of experience in this.”

Rung couldn’t help chuckling. “I’m flattered that you thought of me first!” He settled on his knees again, patient as ever. “I _do_ have a bit of experience in these matters, though, yes.”

“If you were me, what would you do?”

He pondered over the question for a moment. His brows furrowed as he focused on no spot in particular, rubbing his chin. “Well, if I were _ you _,” he finally said, “I’d simply go in head-first. Try not to skirt around the issue -- the worst thing that can happen is that your intoxicated processor heard what it wanted to hear.” 

Touch-Tone nodded, slowly. “And… what then?”

“Then, the two of you move on and continue to be friends,” he said lightly. “It will hurt in the moment, but trust me -- it’s much better than living with that ‘what-if’, always in the back of your mind.”

That had been his plan in the first place, but hearing it from someone else’s mouth reassured him, at least somewhat. Like Rung said; the worst thing that could happen was nothing. 

“Thank you again, Rung,” Touch-Tone said. He heaved himself to his pedes easily, quickly helping tug his lanky, impromptu relationship guru to his own. “Really, it means a lot.”

“Of course, Touch-Tone,” he said. "If I weren't here to listen, I wouldn't be a very good therapist, would I?"

With a grin, he lightly patted him on the back and nudged him in the direction of Swerve’s hab suite encouragingly.

“Now, go_ get _him, tiger.”

* * *

Worry and fear stuck sharp in his spark. His fist had been hovering just inches away from Swerve’s hab suite door for at _least_ 5 kliks now. <strike>Un</strike>Luckily for him, he didn’t even need to knock.

“Touch-Tone!”

He shrieked and whipped around, slamming his back to the door with a sharp _clunk_. His anxiety only skyrocketed further when he saw it was, in fact, Swerve - likely coming to retrieve something from his hab suite. He jumped back in surprise himself, servos raising in a surrender sort of gesture.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me!” he laughed. “What’re you doin’ here, though, Touch-Tone? Whatcha need ol’ Swerve for?”

He swallowed hard, servo resting over his thudding fuel pump and thrumming spark. Oh, Primus, Swerve had work today too, didn't he? He was just going to take up his time. He was probably on break right now. Maybe he should leave.

Shoving away those thoughts, he took a deep breath and let out a shaky laugh.

“Sorry, I-- I’m just a little… on-edge, is all!”

“When aren’t you?” he teased. “Is that why you were lookin’ for me, though? Something wrong?”

“Uhh… not _exactly_?” He rubbed the side of his helm. He could feel energon creeping to his cheeks. “I-- is it cool if we talk in your hab suite? I don’t… want anyone to overhear, or anything.”

Swerve, seemingly not worried - though, in reality, incredibly and unbelievably worried - nodded. “Yeah, no problem!” (The phrase "no problem" in this situation meaning "very much a problem, oh Primus what have I done.")

He ushered him in gently, a servo resting on his lower back as if he were worried he might faint. The door shut and locked behind them with a distinct click.

“Now,” Swerve said, hauling himself onto his berth and patting the empty space beside him, “what’cha need?”

Touch-Tone sat nervously on the berth. He’d gotten all his puking done earlier in the morning, but that didn’t change the rolling in his stomach and the knotting of various wires. He took in a breath before grabbing Swerve’s servo.

“Swerve, how do you feel about me?”

Energon rushed to his face, tinting his cheeks a dark pink. Nervous laughter bubbled out of him. “I-- what? You’re..." he hesitated. "...You're my friend, Touch-Tone!”

He squeezed his servo, not making eye contact. “No, I know that, but…” Another deep breath. “I told you that I loved you last night. And I heard you say that you love me too. But I wasn’t sure when I came out of recharge if that actually _ happened _, or if it was the Engex making me hear what I wanted to hear.”

Swerve was shaking. Just barely, but it came through in his servos.

“I-- y-you remember that?”

His chest felt like fireworks. He chanced a glance at Swerve, his own nervousness physically rattling his frame. “Yeah,” he said. “Did… you mean it? That you love me?”

Swerve was smiling so wide, he was worried he might hurt himself. He couldn’t tell if he was happy, or terrified. “I mean-- yeah! Yeah, I- I did, but I didn’t think you’d remember it? And I-- did you mean it platonically? Because if _you_ meant it platonically and _I_ meant it romantically then that’s a whole other can of worms- have you heard that phrase? It’s an Earth phrase, it’s really weird-- Sorry, forget I said that, and also forget that I said I love you because you probably meant it platonically, so I'll just be going now and we can forget this ev--”

He cut him off by grabbing his face and pressing his mouthguard to his lips in the best approximation of a kiss he could manage. When he pulled away, Swerve looked much more confused and dazed than he had before.

“I-- I remembered that, from a movie you showed me,” he explained, quickly averting his gaze and pulling his hands into his lap. “When the person you love is talking too much for their own good, that’s one way they always shut ‘em up. But… It doesn’t work as well when you don’t have a mouth.”

Swerve started smiling again, much more clearly overjoyed this time. “You- so we-- are we?? What are we now? What’d humans call it again??” He babbled this all out so quickly, Touch-Tone barely had time to register it all. 

“Boyfriends, right? That’s what humans call a relationship that comes before Conjunx?” he offered, voice incredibly uncertain.

Swerve nodded, snapping his digits. “_ That’s _ it, yeah!! _ Boyfriends _!” 

They sat together for a long moment, silent, just looking at each other with goofy smiles on their faces. Swerve sighed, dramatically and lovingly.

“S’got a nice ring to it, y’know,” he hummed. “My _ boyfriend…” _Then, his expression shifted to more of a pout, as if he were thinking.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“No, no,” he said, waving a servo, “just… thinking about how everyone’s gonna react? _ Especially _ Mags, _ hoo boy _\--”

Touch-Tone gave a comedic shudder, before taking Swerve’s servo in his own again.

“Well… what he doesn’t know won’t kill him, will it?”


End file.
